


In The Blue Light

by GENERALGRIEVOUS



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Arkanis (Star Wars), Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Beard Armitage Hux, Bottom Kylo Ren, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canto Bight, Classic Kylux, Coruscant, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Grand Marshal Armitage Hux, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylo Ren is a Mess, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, POV Armitage Hux, POV Kylo Ren, Past Armitage Hux/Cardinal, Past Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Slow Burn, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Switch Kylux, Top Armitage Hux, holograms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GENERALGRIEVOUS/pseuds/GENERALGRIEVOUS
Summary: Post TLJ: A few months have passed since the battle on Crait. The First Order now reigns over the galaxy and things appear to be stable under new Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. Snoke is gone, leaving Hux and Ren to work side by side. In a time when the pair should be closer than ever, Ren wonders why Hux only continues to distance himself, wonders if perhaps they secretly share the same feelings for one another. When Ren goes planetside, Hux has tough decisions to make. Hux has a growing obsession with certain types of holograms and upon discovering one in Ren's possession he immediately regrets all the decisions he made. Suddenly the future of everything is at stake.





	In The Blue Light

**Author's Note:**

> General Notes; Contains some subtle references to the Phasma novel, Solo, Rogue One, Star Wars Prequels, and other non sequel content. But this is not essential to know to enjoy the story! :)
> 
> ***
> 
> Thanks; I've had the idea for this long fic since March of last year and am so excited to finally share this, I absolutely could not have done it without the Kylux community on twitter helping me and inspiring me! I'd like to thank my beta readers, people who are making art (I'll link in the next part) and eveyone who've heavily inspired me for this fic on twitter - @thatpieceofjunk @USSMalfoy @domhnalldaily @overpricedrice @sgnap_ @cubedcoffeecake @mystic_milks @softgingertwink @rainbowdameron and pretty much all of my mutuals there, you are much appreciated!

Grand glass skyscrapers soared overhead, their ends obscured by their own height. The streets were bustling and the skies busy with noise and colour. On Coruscant, even the nights were blackless; the light pollution flooded the atmosphere and mingled with the fog and fumes that weaved through the city planet from every direction. With each stride there’d be an entrance that attempted to entice. Club fronts framed with a myriad of luminous signs. Golden doorways to lavish Cantinas teeming with creatures from the furthest stretches of the galaxy; some unfamiliar even to the new Supreme Leader of the First Order. 

Glowing signs bombarded his eyes, and blinded by Coruscant’s vibrancy, he was too late in noticing the someone in his shadow. 

It was easy to hide amidst the masses, though just as easy to be recognised, and the figure seemed to mirror his pace, his every move. The Resistance’s forces had been diminished to almost nothingness, yet they were still the enemy. An unforeseeable threat. He could not risk recognition, could not risk their associates getting intel on his location.

Kylo Ren concealed his distinctive black locks with his cowl. Shrouding his face with his cloak, he risked a glance. The frantic flashing of vivid lights toyed with his sight. The figure’s thin frame loomed tall. He caught Kylo’s glance and his burgundy coat flustered behind him as his walk immediately hastened to a run. Kylo panicked, felt his lip tremble. He ran, pushed through the crowded street in attempt to lose whoever was tailing him. At each turn there was a maze of back alleys and Kylo eyed the next corner.

A rough hand grasped Kylo’s shoulder. The man’s unanticipated strength startled him. 

Kylo drew his saber, slicing through a window of the nearest building as a distraction. Two guards stood beside the shattered window. He forced them against a wall with a flick of his hand.

In two jarring movements, Kylo fell, letting out a grunt in anger as he found himself pinned to the cracked concrete of a narrow, unlit backstreet.  
Their eyes met. 

Kylo’s widened in momentary disbelief. 

“You!?”

***

Dim beams reflected off an outer rim moon, bestowing the room its blue black tones; though the night’s shadows couldn’t hide the staleness that lingered in the air. An ornate copper tea set, one he’d taken from his family’s home on Arkanis, lay upon the glass surface of his desk, its boiling contents causing condensation to form at its base. The bitter scent of tarine tea coiled upwards and its steaming wisps fused with thick smoke streaming from his cigarette. Red rings framed his solemn gaze; the sea-foam green of his irises protruding in their vibrancy against his ashen skin. He could feel their redness. He felt drained and weak and his eyes itched in their dryness. At this point, he wasn’t certain whether it was because he’d allowed himself to become a wreck of emotions or whether it was simply due to the fowl atmosphere he’d find himself in night after sleepless night. Perhaps it was both combined. Or perhaps his father had been right all those years ago. This was who he’d always been and always will be; a pathetic boy of a man.

Beside his untouched tea sat a holoprojector, small and compact, generating a low hum that cut through the silence; an eerie silence that too often consumed the Grand Marshal’s chambers. He fixated on the hologram as it played. The way the colours flickered, varying in their intensity from frame to frame. 

Blue light emitted from the grainy image, painted the moonlit walls with flickering silhouettes. 

Silhouettes of Kylo Ren’s distinctive figure.

Armitage Hux traced over Ren’s defined features. The soft waves of his hair, the way the winds toyed with them. Wondered how it would feel to run a hand through those thick locks. 

The winds and rain and gloomy skies of whatever back water planet this message was recorded from reminded him of home, of Arkanis. Whilst watching it he’d often wonder about what might have been if Ren had ever visited the academy there. If Ben had met Armitage. What different curves life may have calved into their fate; a fate that could now only ever exist in that alternate past. 

That sad fantasy was the reason this unassuming hologram had made it into Armitage’s collection.

If anyone in within the First Order was made aware he had a hoard of these things, he knew there’d be questions; if not for their content then for the outstanding fact they could be considered stolen. Most in his collection were originally stored in FO data archives and some of which only Snoke would’ve had access to. 

Tampering with holograms was a tedious task, but Armitage had taught himself how to adjust them to play on repeat, learned how to fix and enhance the faint colouring of the older ones. He’d found a sort of therapeutic comfort in it. But if such menial tasks were in pursuit of anything other than the man’s own private entertainment, Armitage Hux certainly wouldn’t have gone to these lengths.

At that moment, there was a buzz. Seconds later, another. It came from his datapad.

Armitage sighed weakly. He’d sat there, motionless, since returning from the meeting with Phasma. He’d sat there, face buried in the small of his palm, a beige, cream and black check scarf embellished with thin red stripes still hung from his neck and his greatcoat still draped over his tired shoulders. And to be quite honest, he didn’t feel much like moving to check who or what it was just yet.

The meeting itself had been fine, it had been just him and Phasma and a few higher ranking troopers. But ever since the throne room incident that happened a good few months ago now, with Snoke and whomever that girl was, and that damn confrontation with Ren, things between the three of them felt more awkward than ever. It was draining. And every evening when he’d return to his chambers, he was surrounded by stillness, found himself consumed by an unshakable, punishing, emptiness. It was a feeling so far removed from that warmth and contentment he’d experienced an eternity ago, or so it felt. That fateful, freezing, last night on StarKiller Base. He still remembered every detail; the scent of Ren’s hair, damp from lying in the snow, how his cold pale skin and bloody gash across his face glistened against a fiery backdrop of explosions that destroyed his creation. It all seemed to have happened in slow motion. How, then, he didn’t care about anything else, only the heavy weight of Kylo’s wounded body in his arms. How Bittersweet it all was, how-

His datapad illuminated at the end of his bed, flashing incessantly at another influx of messages.

Armitage finally reached for the device.

An urge to chew at his manicured nails almost bested him, but at the same time he felt like he couldn’t have moved a muscle, even if he had been back amidst some battle field. 

It was Ren. Of course it was Ren.

Ren 02:33am – hux

Ren 02:33am – are you awake?

Ren 02:33am - ???

Ren 02:35am – ???????? 

Ren 02:35am – can you meet me in the in the throne room

He scoffed aloud at the last message. At this time of night it was undoubtedly one of Ren’s silly jokes, Armitage thought. 

Then he felt himself stiffen, it dawned on him how awful he looked; tired, weak, an all-round mess. 

His hand hovered over the datapad for a good minute or so.

Armitage noted the lack of question marks on the message that would be the actual question; it was Ren’s way of specifying without actually specifying that this wasn’t a question, but a direct command. He contemplated replying with some snide remark regarding that, though decided against it. 

Hux 02:38 – Fine.

Ren’s reply was instant. The datapad buzzed three times consecutively before Armitage had even moved.

Ren 02:38 – you know that was an order

Ren 02:38 – you cant say no

Ren 02:38 – :)

Armitage gave a heavy sigh, taking the long last drag of what was his fourth cigarette before replying and tossing the datapad aside. He stood tall, straightened his coat, putting the holoprojector away.

A sturdy fixture, complete with a metallic black sheen, acted as a headboard to his bed. Deceivingly the sides could be opened up and used for storage. Armitage had made perfect use of it, stashing his hologram archive there, all fifty of them alphabetically sorted and categorized, of course.

He looked down at the little things, no bigger than his palm, remembering how much he loathed this. Loathed himself, that he’d resorted to this. He’d even come to prefer these holograms as opposed to meeting with Ren in person. The holograms couldn’t judge him, they couldn’t hate him, couldn’t deny him, only serve him. Armitage wasn’t exposing himself, his desires, his weakness to Ren, only to a hologram. It was a level of perfect he knew he could never have with Ren, and it’s why he’d so quickly become obsessed. This had only been going on a few months, ever since the throne room incident; he still thought about that all the time, because that was the moment he’d given up. Not on the First Order, never, but on Ren, and the possibility of them ever being close again like they had been the first year Snoke introduced them to one another…

Now, it was different, and the strange dynamic between the pair was visible to all. Quiet gossip in the lower ranks was fueled by Hux’s unrequited gazes and his lingering presence whenever Ren was in the vicinity. The rebuilding of the First Order had the two working side by side but still they were somehow more separate than ever. Ren had his helmet reforged but discarded the thing if he wasn’t going planetside or out onto a battlefield. Instead he favored exposing his face, donning ostentatious crown like head pieces. 

This only fed Armitage’s infatuation.

The fact Armitage hadn’t the power to fix this obsession or make it go away infuriated him. He couldn’t command Phasma to take care of this, like he’d done with his father and Parnassos. Looking back, that whole ordeal seemed so smooth, easy in comparison. This was different, he couldn’t have Ren to himself, Ren was another person and for all he wished he could control people, it was not possible. And so there was nothing to be done.

Copper eyelashes fluttering shut, his eyebrows furrowed. Armitage opened them to look back at the mirror, back at himself. Perfect uniform hid a scrawny, tired, imperfect man, he thought. Raising a hand to his shoulder, he felt the pads on the inside of his coat that made him appear broader there.  
“Liar.” He spat. “Nothing. That’s what you are. Nothing.” Nothing to the person who’d grown to matter to him most, is what he meant.

Though StarKiller Base was no more, it had done the necessary damage and Armitage Hux remained the ‘Destroyer of Worlds’. He reminded himself that. Reminded himself how he had risen to be just as powerful as the force user without having such talents, how the both of them spearheaded the First Order in the wake of Snoke’s death. How he was gifted a higher rank, something Snoke had denied him for years, the title of Grand Marshal by Ren himself - if Ren wasn’t interested in him now, then why would he ever be?

He hated, maybe even despised, Ren for the sole fact he wasn’t interested. He hated himself because he cared so much, still, after all this time.

He needed a way past this, a way forward, but he didn’t know which way to turn.

At that, he inhaled deeply, composing himself. Then, brushing off a few of Millicent’s cat hairs and pressing out the few creases in his uniform, he made for the door.

***

Magnificent floor to ceiling length windows consumed the wall to the left in its entirety. The panoramic view allowed for the galaxy’s shimmering stars to fill the vast space with an ethereal light; such softness played beautifully off the cold sharp edges of objects hidden by shadows, a contrast to the room’s starkness. It was much like General Hux’s quarters in that way; bland furnishings favoring practicality above aesthetics with exceptions for a few personal trinkets. It was much larger than his previous accommodations and, admittedly, its extensive size made the room appear a little too bare, the fixtures spread out a little too sparsely. It acted as a physical metaphor, a constant reminder, that he could have things go so well, have so much, yet it was not enough to escape this deep loneliness, emptiness, he felt in these long and silent nights. Still, as the new Supreme Leader, he had to remind himself he should not dwell on petty negatives and that these new quarters were an upgrade. The best aboard The Invincible. A luxury.

Kylo Ren glanced over at his side table and to the digital clock that ticked quietly there, resting on an ancient tome. The current time read exactly midnight. 

He sighed, tossing and turning over in his bed. There was always a faint hum, even when all else was silent, the ship’s systems softly murmured away in the background. And he lay awake thinking of how his mind’s current state seemed to mirror the ship’s systems; forever churning away, on a seemingly endless loop, unable to be turned off.

Realizing that both his pillows were now somehow on the floor, and quite a way away from the bed, he gave up. He felt properly awake, alert now. At this point, even the idea of sleep was incomprehensible to his mind. And to his hard cock. 

He peered around the room from beneath his unintelligible mess of sheets. 

Sleek lines of metallic black forged a sturdy desk that stood opposing the starry views. A calligraphy set lay on it’s pristine top, untouched since the day he’d placed it there. Such small things that held such stories, memories in physical form, things from a time past that he couldn’t part with because he’d be parting with what they represented too. And he didn’t want to let them die just yet.

Kylo trudged toward the desk, going straight for the bottom drawer. Picturing the word ‘Vader’ clearly in his mind and waving a hand lazily in its direction. The lock clicked open.

It was a clever little mechanism, only to be used by those were force sensitive, obviously. Hux rediscovered this tech, once swept under the blankets of time, when he had been designing The Invincible. He’d recommended it to Kylo for his quarters. Hux really did go to any lengths, giving all his effort and care, for any and every First Order program he was involved in, it’s essentially how he’d risen through the ranks so quickly.

“Ah,” Kylo muttered, “there it is.”

As he finished routing through the mess, old letters, books, rare Sith relics he’d collected through the years, there it was at the back of the drawer. A holodisc. He pulled it out.

Kylo gave a light chuckle, looking down at it. He’d misplaced it a day or so ago, until now. 

Mitaka had come a to Kylo’s quarters with a personal request whilst off duty and the unanticipated buzz at the door had caught him off guard. He’d panicked momentarily and crammed everything into the drawer before attending to Mitaka.

Stars, if anyone were to have stumbled across it, any of the questionable things he had left lying around for that matter, he’d have to give some answers he wasn’t ready to give. Kylo sighed, stood still for a moment. His rooms were tidy on surface level but he knew that if he opened any storage cupboard, drawer, anything, all his belongings would fall out, probably crushing him. If it weren’t for the service droids, without doubt, this place would be suffocating under a thick layer of dust too.

Such menial cleaning chores reminded him of his teen years that he’d longed to forget, perhaps that’s why he’d shunned them to a disgusting degree…

Kylo knew he should sort his belongings properly and so added the task to his mental list of things to do. This was ridiculous. He, along with the First Order, hadn’t even been aboard The Invincible long. Kylo sighed. He knew Hux would be disappointed, but not surprised.

That glimpse of an image, of Hux uncovering his mess, his personal possessions. Uncovering him. The image of Hux here in his room, made Kylo itch with want, with desperate need. His cock twitched as that fantasy weaved rapidly in his mind. He imagined if Hux were here now, standing close, against the backdrop of space’s starlight in the dead of night. Stark naked, red hair slicked back, immaculate as ever, broad shoulders and all. He imagined how Hux would look caressed by the soft light emitting from his kyber lamp on the bedside table. Where would the shadows caused by the angled lighting form on his slim frame, his torso, his hips maybe?… Kylo whimpered, engrossed in those thoughts. 

He felt himself growing harder by the second, almost ran toward the ice blue futon that stood at the foot of his bed; a high-fashion blend of traditional and modern styles. It reeked of Arkanisian opulence, it was beautiful, and it was once Hux’s. 

From underneath it, he desperately dragged out a bulky, aged looking holoprojector. Placing it atop the futon’s cushions, he inserted the holodisc. 

Hux had gifted the futon to Kylo. Too much furniture was clutter to a room’s clean aesthetic, he’d said, that he’d no longer required it. It was originally from Hux’s family home on Arkanis. And Kylo knew, without doubt, that in Hux’s own quarters there was a matching sofa, an identical ice blue shade. 

That alone made him twitch again, body aching, throbbing to be touched. 

Impatient, irritable ahead of the hologram’s start, Kylo collapsed haphazardly onto the sheets. Began stroking the head of his erection gently. He wore nothing but boxers. They had wet soaking through them in large spots, his cock already dripping with precum, slick in excitement.

He moaned at the hologram’s start, the strong voice abruptly penetrating through the echoey room. 

“Today. Is the end of the republic.”

Stars. Kylo shuddered. His presence demanded attention. His beautifully elegant wording of the speech. It was still too much for his senses, no matter the amount of times he’d watch it.

“The end. Of a regime that acquiesces to disorder.”

Kylo moved his hand up and down his cock, squeezed harder, in every which way it didn’t matter, he had to have it faster. He craved Hux. His entire body ached at the thought of his touch.

“At this very moment.”

Stars. His jaw clenched, body already tensing in anticipation. 

“In a system far from here, the New Republic lies to the galaxy, while secretly supporting the treachery of the loathsome Resistance!”

The way Hux rolled his ‘R’ slightly had Kylo’s entire being inundated with thrill, indescribable sensations. It was something unique to Hux. A quirk kylo had noticed. And he reveled in it. It was an Arkanisian thing that came out only when Hux tried too hard to heighten his Old Empire accent, or when speaking passionately, too caught up in the moment to care how it sounded.

Kylo moaned hard, gritting his teeth. 

He felt cold yet remarkably hot. Felt his heartbeat thudding against his rib-cage.

He shivered, entire body sweating profusely from the overwhelming sensations.

“This fierce machine which you have built, upon which we stand, will bring an end to the senate, to their cherished fleet.” 

Beads of precum now streamed down his fat cock, lacing his hands. 

Sweat dripped down his bare chest from between his pecs, trickling to his tensed abbs. 

Stars, Kylo felt good, felt alive. 

“All remaining systems, WILL. BOW. TO THE FIRST ORDER!” Hux screamed, kylo bathed in the harshness of Hux’s tone. Kriff how he wanted Hux. Wanted Hux to yell at him like that, and yell because of him. 

Kylo’s legs were sprawled all over the bed. Sheets a crinkled mess.

“AND WILL REMEMBER THIS-”

Hux almost growled, Kylo relished it; the animal like tone so raw, powerful. Kylo was panting, and heavily. He was near the edge, physically, mentally on the line. He was salivating. He needed this. Needed Hux. Fuck he wished he could cum for Hux.

“-AS THE LAST DAY OF THE REPUBLIC!”

He felt the veins beneath his hand, throbbing arduously. Kylo ran a hand through his damp black hair, pushing it back quickly, out of his face. He stared at Hux in all his fierceness, his startlingly gorgeous, furious eyes. Kylo gasped in the exhilaration, lip quivering almost to a pout. Blood rushed to his ears, to his burning cheeks.

“FIRE!”

“FUCK- AR-ARMITAGE” Kylo managed, his body and senses strained to the max. He climaxed, came violently in that moment. Jolting forward, breathless, hair fell back over his face and he coated the black bed sheets in white liquid. 

And at the last shot of General Hux, in is element, upon his StarKiller Base, the hologram ended, and so did another one of Kylo Ren’s masturbation sessions.

An hour later, Kylo found himself still incapable of sleep. Unfortunately his ‘hologram session,’ as he’d dubbed it in his mind, did not help. Usually, it exhausted him to the point where his body would almost shut down immediately afterward. Tonight’s was quick and it left his mind in a worse state than before. All he could think of was Armitage Hux. 

He threw a pillow on the floor in his fleeting annoyance, got out of bed and started tiding the mess in favour of doing nothing at all. Too roughly, he yanked the holodisc out of the machine. The newer coloured ones were made of a more flimsy material and so part of it bent in the process. Panic then overwhelmed Kylo. He desperately tried to flex the thing back into its original shape, shoving it in and out of the holoprojector, begging it to fit again.

It didn’t. 

He tried again. 

Then it fit. 

“Yes!” Kylo whispered in relief. 

It began playing, but upon Hux’s first words, the hologram glitched, stuttered and repeated.

Kylo pulled at his hair, yelled with rage. Snatched it back out of the holoprojector and threw it furiously onto the futon. 

This was the ONLY copy. He’d stolen it from Snoke’s archives. Hux’s speech had been streamed the day of its happening and the sole recording was recorded for Supreme Leader Snoke to witness personally. All this time it was supposed to have been stored away safely in the archives. But Kylo had it, and now he’d broken it with no clue of how to fix it. He couldn’t go back to living without it. Without Hux’s voice, without Hux.

Trying to calm himself, he closed his eyes and took a series of deep breaths, counting. It didn’t help. 

When he opened them, that stupidly delicate, stupidly flimsy, piece of tech seemed to glare at him. He glared back at it. 

He sneered at the old, outdated, piece of junk of a holoprojector, for which he partly blamed, unable to process what HE alone had done. 

Kylo inhaled deeply, dreading what he knew was about to happen, unable to prevent it. 

What he envied about Hux, what he couldn’t help but hate him for, was his sheer control and discipline. As much as Kylo wanted Hux, he craved those qualities so dearly, maybe more. He hated how self aware he was in this, how he was incapable of thinking before acting at the most inconvenient of times. 

The anger grew in his stomach. More frustrated with himself now than with anything else.

That was it.

His impulsive side took over. 

Within two seconds, his lightsaber was flinging through the darkness into his palm, and he sliced it to pieces. 

“No. No. NO.” 

Kylo cried out barely a minute later, seething with rage at the whole situation as it dawned on him what he’d just done. 

This made things ten times worse. How was he supposed to find another older modeled holoprojector, the only ones that displayed small holograms at a larger scale, that could also display new tech coloured ones? 

This was entirely his own fault. Too clumsy, too careless, yet again. 

He had to do something. Immediately. Even if tomorrow night, he was fine without it, what about the night following? Or the one after that? And Hux, for some reason unbeknownst to Kylo, was growing distant, they’d hardly spoken in the last few weeks. Both were understandably busy with separate sections of the First Order, but Kylo felt like Hux was purposely pulling away and it was getting silly. This was just the icing on the kriffing cake. No Hux during the day. No Hux during the night. 

Kylo strode into his dresser, took a single glance in the mirror, and smacked his face. Yelled. Smacked it again. Smacked it until it was red raw and he was calm. 

He knew what he had to do. Where he had to go. He couldn’t care for the time, couldn’t let it affect this because, as odd as it sounded, this hologram he allowed himself to indulge in, this pathetic small piece of Armitage Hux was all he had. It was all he deserved, and all he’d probably ever get. This stupid thing, and he knew it was stupid, gave him some bit of strength to go on throughout the day and not combust at the sight of Hux. Just the very sight of him reminded Kylo how he was alone and how Hux was there, with him everyday, everything he desired, but everything he couldn’t have. 

He sent Hux a few messages about meeting in the throne room.

Deciding on an outfit took Kylo a while and fiddling with the white cape that he eventually chose made him a little late, but it was worth it. He had to look his best for this, afterall.

BB9E, Kylo’s droid, rolled out of the back utility room, nervously approaching him. It bobbed its head sympathetically as it assessed the room and all the scorched pieces of the holoprojector that were scattered across the floor.

Scurrying over to Kylo, it tapped at his calves and beeped worriedly.

“Uhm, you stay here. I’m fine, I promise.” Kylo gestured toward the lounge area.

And with that, he’d left. He’d felt like a jumbled bag of nerves. Though whilst in the elevator, he noted the speakers had been put in place and now there was that faint but familiar tune playing just as he’d commanded; the one that reminded him of his youth and of discovering his dark side lineage. So that, at least, soothed him a little.

***

As Armitage reached the elevator to the throne room, he gave a nervous glance up and down the corridor, making sure there was no one of importance around before entering.

It was far from cold. They were aboard a First Order ship with optimal heating in the middle of space; temperatures were never anything but a second thought. Armitage had worn his scarf. Upon leaving his quarters, some silly thought had enticed him into the senseless decision that he now regretted. 

The scarf was a new accessory. He’d paid a hefty price for the luxury brand on Canto Bight; they’d been there just last month. Armitage had inherited a stupendous amount of credits after his father had ‘passed on,’ and he very much intended on spending every last one. Brendol would detest this and was probably screaming at him from beyond the grave; Armitage was smug in that knowledge. He was aware, though, that such materialistic purchases were just another way to show off. That all this was his mind’s sad ploy to get Ren to notice him. On Canto Bight he’d also bought Ren’s birthday gift and some personalized silver cufflinks, embossed with grey blue crystal like stones. They weren’t the rarest material in the galaxy but they were fancy enough, yet also unique to Arkanis and its surrounding planets. They would have been ridiculously overkill for this out of the blue meeting, so he’d ditched the idea of wearing them tonight.

Armitage noted one of Phasma’s new promotional posters had been placed beside the elevator buttons. It simply read ‘CONQUER’ in chrome lettering, with her tall frame in the foreground against a crimson backdrop. He rarely gave a genuine warm smile, but Armitage’s true emotions couldn’t help but shine through at the sight of the poster. And Ren finally had the speakers installed, so the Empire’s old theme, ‘The Imperial March,’ so it was called, played in the background of every ascent to the throne room. It was a change Ren made that he’d found he quite enjoyed.

Upon entering, sweeping floor-length windows showcased the galaxy in its beautiful infiniteness. Such expansive views were captivating; almost the whole of the ship’s exterior was visible from this position. He strode closer and reveled at the sight of his creation. 

A gloss black finish cloaked the main body, its metallic silver accents gleaming in the starlight of space; it was striking, more so than the traditional aesthetics of a resurgent-class star destroyer. ‘The Invincible’ was modeled mostly on his designs, each minute detail he had personally approved; this was his rendition. Something he used to only dream of. Since Crait, it had become the primary home of the First Order and most were in agreement that this new ship was excellent. Only Armitage Hux himself was to thank for its superiority to every ship that had come before; and he gave a sly sneer, content with that thought.

This gargantuan room, however, was Ren’s doing. 

Ren had replaced Snoke’s bold reds with subtle grey shades, black, navy blues and hints of blood orange where he’d deemed necessary. Slithers of gold and bronze laced the curtains with intricate patterns and silver letters that read ‘REN’ had been newly embellished upon the throne. The excessive black made it feel more of a lair than a throne room, although the patterns resembled such that could be found in Naboo’s palaces. It was not to Hux’s taste, but that wasn’t why he hated the room. He hated it because it reeked of Ren, down to every little detail. Despite that, the room’s high ceilings carried the aesthetic well and it certainly created a powerful atmosphere, he had to admit that at the least.

For all the times Kylo Ren had thrown around the phrase ‘let the past die,’ there was little evidence of him practicing what he preached. During the design phase of The Invincible, there had been a proposal to rid the First Order of useless money draining luxuries, such as the throne room, as the furnishings tended to be expensive and excessive. Naturally, Ren had taken it as a direct insult, and all but demanded Armitage to include the room. Amidst his tantrum, he’d drawn his lightsaber, violently lashing at the three officers who’d initially put the idea forward. Blood splurged, saber crackling at the touch of flesh. When Ren had finished, their bodies were nothing but dissected limbs beneath rubble, scorched from the smoldering blade. It was horrifically messy, and Armitage had merely stood in silence, condoning it. In truth, he had been rather enamoured by the way Ren had yelled unexpectedly, the way he flicked his hair away from his face in a poetic fashion as he drew his weapon, the power that radiated from his being. Too caught up in his outburst, Ren failed to notice Armitage who was unable to do anything but stare, infatuated. The few others present, however, did take note and rumours of the incident swept through the halls of The Invincible like wildfire; the way respected officers had so effortlessly met their end at the hands of Ren, hacked to pieces, and over such a petty issue. No one else could rival Kylo Ren, and Armitage Hux rather obviously didn’t want to. The whole ordeal had all but solidified Ren’s position as Supreme Leader and nobody had dared approach the pair since. 

Armitage huffed, agitated in the prolonged anticipation of Ren’s presence. If his judgement was correct, Ren must have been at least five minutes late by now. He should have known this to be some stupid game of Ren’s, the twisted enjoyment he must have gotten out of envisaging Armitage fretting about in the middle of the night, blindly obeying whatever Ren demanded. 

A sharp ping came from the elevator, meaning Ren was aboard and Armitage turned immediately. 

Less than a minute following, the door slid open. 

Kylo Ren entered. 

The heals of his silver boots heavy against the polished floor, his stride quick. In the momentary gust of air, his crisp white cape flapped. Beneath the golden light his hair appeared darker, skin clearer, an almost angelic image.

“Hux.” 

Armitage gave his trade mark sneer. It did little to mask his initial shock which radiated from his expression like white rays from a new-born star. 

Even amidst his infatuation, it hadn’t gone unnoticed to Armitage that Ren, had again, purposefully, refused to address him as ‘Grand Marshal’. Ironically, Ren himself had given the former General his new title after the battle on Crait, in full knowledge of just how much it meant to him. If Supreme Leader Ren was going to play that idiotic game, then so was he.

“Ah. Ren.” He made a point to roll his ‘R’ and elongate the word. “Late to your own meeting. And by a good ten minutes.” 

His sneer fast faded, comprehending Ren’s sudden proximity.

The room was excessively large, even more so than Snoke’s was yet Ren insisted on standing so close like this. Armitage felt his pale cheeks turn a berry pink, hyper aware of his every move, of how exhausted he knew he looked. 

“Eight.”

“What?” Armitage clenched his jaw, aware of the way his voice had sounded caught off guard; small and raw in the back of his throat.

Sensing Hux’s discomfort, Ren’s dark eyes flickered in the gold lighting. “Eight. I was eight minutes late.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Armitage knew Ren could see something was off with him, normally he’d be the one to give the correct numbers down to the decimal points.

Armitage fought the urge to look away. 

He didn’t want to give Ren the satisfaction of winning whatever this was. 

“Well.” He snapped, heightening his accent, “What is it then?”

Ren’s mouth quivered as if he was about to answer. But he stopped, and in the dark pools of his eyes there was a fleeting shimmer of hope or need or something else Armitage couldn’t quite read. He felt it then, brewing, thickening and flowing between each molecule of oxygen right down into the pit of his lungs. 

He knew, he knew what it was. 

And he stole a glance. 

Sure enough Ren’s fist was clenched at his side, he was reaching out with the force. 

All discreteness was discarded as Ren caught Armitage’s glance. 

Instantly, Kylo Ren’s ominous presence made itself apparent in the forefront of his mind. Armitage glared at his superior, trying and failing to supress his immediate thoughts from surfacing too easily. 

But the effort was in vain. 

There was an apparent throbbing at the back of his skull, and his mind felt hazy; like sun beams penetrating some misty horizon. Ren lifted a hand, stabilizing his grip and Armitage squirmed under Ren’s control. All thoughts had blurred, distorted, as Ren searched deeper. All that was left for Armitage to focus on was the present, on the man who stood before him. And all he could think about was that stupid hologram. How the gentle winds on some back-water planet had played with Ren’s wispy curls as he relayed some unimportant message. How Ren’s hair, in this moment, directly mirrored that pretty image. How the nonconforming locks framed his asymmetrical face and how the dark colour played artistically off the rouge tones of his plush lips. Armitage was certain he could feel Ren lingering there, on that image, desperate and prying for more. The pair shuddered in this all-consuming awareness of one another, a forceful sensation rippling through them. In the moment of fractured connection, Armitage flinched, breaking eye contact. It was a frantic attempt to get out of the situation. 

It worked.

The connection was severed. 

Fury and alarm were written boldly across Armitage’s face and all he could do was look to the floor.

A bead of sweat trailed along Ren’s jaw as he wavered a little, regaining his balance as his grip of the force loosened jarringly. 

Armitage let slip a faint mutter of “that’s enough,” in a breathless gasp; the delicate fragility lacing his tone sounded so unlike himself it was startling. 

All Ren could fathom in response was some incoherent snarl, and the two parted for a second, turning away from one another.

That was it? 

Was the only reason Ren invited him here to flaunt his new cape? To taunt him, go digging through his mind without his consent? Or was he actually going to say anything that was of importance? 

Armitage could feel his blood boiling. Ren and his kriffing force.

“You called me here. At this hour, to what- to-” Armitage threw a remorseless gaze Ren’s way. Ren didn’t move, as if he wasn’t phased. Armitage saw through it, saw it was just an act and managing to compose himself, he drew in a deep breath and muttered an emotionless, “Will that be all, Supreme Leader?” 

“NO.” Ren barked. 

There was a pause. 

Then, he meekly reclused, realising he’d snapped a little too defensively. “No… I… Wanted to let you know I’m going off ship for the next few days. Now that Phasma is recovering I trust you’ll handle things well.”

“Off ship?” Armitage’s tone was immediately softer. “Is there anything I should know?”

Again, Ren’s lip wavered. “No. No, Nothing. It’s force related, I have business on Coruscant… I have Two and Six coming with me, the rest of the Knights of Ren can stay here. I’ll fly myself.”

Armitage didn’t answer right away; he was still processing that Ren would be away for potentially a week, on a mission he wasn’t going to tell him anything about. Even more intriguingly the Knights of Ren, as a whole unit, weren't to accompany him, yet this was supposedly ‘force business.’ Armitage didn’t usually question such things because he knew he probably wouldn't understand the mumbo jumbo force related answers, but why couldn’t this have waited?

During the few seconds of silence, Ren’s eyes scanned Armitage up and down. The second Armitage noticed, Ren spoke before he could react.

“That was all. I’m leaving. First thing.”

“Ah. I See.”

Making for a swift exit almost immediately, the Grand Marshal’s greatcoat flapped dramatically behind him; though the cracked tone in his voice gave Ren a flash of Armitage’s inner colours, and he’d appeared more like some hurt child running to escape than anything else.

***

Kylo Ren sat alone for a while, dressed in white’s and gold’s he’d worn to impress. He sat alone on his exquisite throne, surrounded by all he could want. The Knights of Ren guarded each exit of the overly ornate room, and he was safe. Safe and powerful, but more alone in the galaxy than ever.

As Hux had promptly strode out of the room, Kylo had watched from his perch, observing the slim man’s immaculate posture. He was always immaculate, always pristine, no matter the circumstance or hour. Yet despite that, he had appeared more laid-back than usual and Kylo couldn’t figure out whether Hux had intended for that or not. The beard suited him, but it seemed to smooth over his harshness in a way, make it less severe. Kylo hadn’t stopped thinking about it since he’d first noticed Hux was growing it. It presented a completely different side of Hux that he hadn’t ever seen and he was intrigued by it. Kylo had long known there was more to Hux than his cold exterior.

The Supreme Leader wondered if it was at all possible that someone who portrayed himself to be as bitter as the tea he drank could in fact be capable of the pure love Kylo had seen so desperately scream from his mind. 

He’d seen it again tonight. That truth that he’s seen so many times now. Such emotion being forcefully withheld, crying to be let out from under a sea of black cloaks, buried beneath hate and lies.

Hux was not weak minded at all, but he had moments of weakness, just as everyone would. And when he’d get too invested in his thoughts, or forget for a second that he wasn’t alone, Kylo had always been there, tapping into Hux’s mind the moment he sensed he could. Kylo yearned to be closer to him and this, the force, was the only way he thought he could be. 

Despite the truth that had revealed it’s self to Kylo on multiple occasions, Kylo still doubted it, couldn’t face it. He’d been too afraid to say anything to Hux, too afraid of the consequences if Snoke had ever found out, too afraid of all the possible outcomes in full knowledge that yes it could swing in favour of his desires, but it could also completely backfire. Now though, Snoke’s looming presence wasn’t an excuse he could use to fool himself. 

And he was well aware of the reason behind his continuing self-doubt. 

He was too afraid.


End file.
